


An Easy Fix

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Consent Issues, Feelings Realization, Fuck Or Die, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Porn with Feelings, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-08 01:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: I'm not going to let you die, Mr. Stark,Peter had told him.It's stupid to even think about that when there's an easy fix.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 378
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	An Easy Fix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).

"It's okay, Mr. Stark," Peter says.

He has the same determined expression on his face that he always gets when he's about to do something stupidly risky that he feels misguidedly obliged to do. Normally in those kinds of situations, Tony is the one holding the kid back. Or trying to hold him back, anyway.

Not today, though.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he lets his forehead drop against Peter's, and for a moment the sensation of skin against skin calms the raging blood in his veins. It's not quite enough, though, to silence the voice in the back of his head demanding _more_. Soon, it won't be enough at all.

"It's really not, kid. It's nowhere close to fucking okay."

Peter looks stricken. "I know, Mr. Stark. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. But we'll get through this, okay?"

Jesus. Tony can't handle this. Peter shouldn't be the one comforting him. There's something so deeply wrong with this, it almost chokes Tony up. "To _me_? Do you even hear yourself, kid? This isn't about me. You're the one who has to—"

He can't even say it. How the hell is he supposed to go through with it when he can't even put it into words? Except his body seems to have other ideas. His cock has been uncomfortably hard since henchmen Dumb and Dumber dosed him with whatever creepy shit their boss had been experimenting on, and the overwhelming anger and guilt Tony feels are doing nothing at all to quell the arousal prickling under his skin like millions of needles.

"Don't worry about me," Peter says. 

The smile he levels at Tony has nothing of the sunny cheer Tony loves on him. It's forced and shaky, like a grimace. 

And then, before Tony can comfort him or yell at him for being a self-sacrificing idiot, Peter leans in and presses their lips together. It's like there's a switch being flipped, and the whisper in the back of Tony's mind becomes a scream, telling him to take the kid now, to claim him, mark him, make him his. 

Before he can stop himself, he's kissing back, harder than he means to, all teeth and tongue and too much force. He used to imagine this: kissing Peter, touching him, fucking him. Shameful private fantasies that got him off on lonely nights in the tower. And it was okay, because those were just fantasies, and Peter would never have to know. 

Except here they are, Peter's mouth sweet and pliant under his and Tony's hands frantically tearing at his clothes to get them off of him, and there's no hiding behind the fantasy now. It's all too real, and it's everything and nothing like Tony had imagined.

"I'm sorry, Pete." 

He said it before, back when he started feeling the first effects of the pollen. When they started discussing options and Peter refused to even let him finish suggesting to just knock him out and wait till it's over. _I'm not going to let you die, Mr. Stark,_ Peter had told him. _It's stupid to even think about that when there's an easy fix._

Easy. Right.

Peter shakes his head. "Please stop apologizing." 

He pulls Tony with him towards the bed in the corner of the cell – if you can even call it a bed; it's some ratty old cot, and Tony doesn't even want to think about how dirty it is. Too narrow to sleep on for two people, too, but it's not like that matters now. 

There are goosebumps on Peter's skin when Tony's hands trail down his sides. Tony tries to tell himself that it's because it's cold inside the cell, even if Tony can't feel the chill, his body burning up from the inside with a need that's becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

When Peter strips off his jeans and carelessly kicks them down to the floor, Tony's eyes are instinctively drawn to the kid's cock. It's not quit hard but not exactly soft either, curving up against the Peter's stomach. The desire to touch it is too strong to resist, so Tony does. He reaches out and closes his hand around it, giving it a few experimental strokes. 

Peter gasps, his hips jerking up into Tony's touch. 

Intellectually, he knows it's just a physical reaction. The kid's young (too fucking young, even for Tony's admittedly murky moral standards, dammit) and healthy, and his powers make him even more sensitive than the average 17-year-old; of course he'll get hard if someone's jerking him off. But the knowledge doesn't stop the forbidden, shameful thrill Tony gets from the sight of Peter reacting to his touch. The feel of his cock growing heavier against his palm. The noises he makes. Fuck, those _noises_. Broken little gasps and moans like he actually enjoys this.

It makes Tony want to get inside of Peter right fucking now, his own cock throbbing in his pants at the thought. 

He blames the way the pollen are messing with his mind for how it's not until he's got the kid's knees bent up and a spit-wet finger trailing the outside rim of his hole that it occurs Tony to ask, "Have you ever done this before?"

It takes an effort to make himself pause long enough to wait for a response.

"Got captured and shot up with sex pollen? No, I don't think that ever came up."

Tony's eyes snap up to Peter who's giving him a deadpan glare, some of its effect lost because of the way he looks, naked and spread open. And really? That's his response? Now? "Oh that's very funny, kid. Hilarious. Excellent time to make jokes. Ten out of ten."

"Sorry, I just—I experimented a bit?" There's the faint hint of a blush on his cheeks. "But not, like, with someone else."

From somewhere inside the primal part of Tony's brain, the idea of being Peter's _first_ sends a jolt of lust, dark and possessive, straight towards his dick, and Tony wishes he could say that it's just the pollen. 

"Maybe it's enough if I get off. Perhaps a mutual hand job will do the trick," he half-heartedly suggests, despite the way his every instinct is screaming for him to just _take_ Peter now. 

Maybe the screaming is loud enough that Peter hears it too, because he's shaking his head before Tony even finishes the suggestion. 

"No," he says firmly. "Look, Mr. Stark, if it was me who got dosed with that stuff, would you risk it?"

No, of course he wouldn't. Dumb and Dumber were pretty clear. And even though Tony doesn't trust them to either know how this shit works or tell the truth if they did, he wouldn't bet Peter's life on that. It stands to reason that Peter wouldn't risk his either. Tony, now—Tony's a bit more willing to take that chance, if it means keeping the kid from getting hurt.

Peter's touch at the side of his face startles him. "I can see that it's getting worse and I don't really want to find out what happens if you keep resisting."

He looks scared, and it's a horrible look on him, Tony decides. He'd rather have back the snark from a few minutes ago, or that stupid stubborn determination, or even the helpless, unwilling arousal. Anything's better than fear.

"Okay, fine, just... Tell me if it gets too much and I'll stop." 

Even as he says it, he's not sure if that's a promise he'd be able to keep. His finger is already pushing into Peter, slower than the rush of _wantneedtakehimnownownow_ would like him to, but steadily pressing on past the initial resistance. It takes a while for Peter to loosen up, for that blissful spaced out look to return to his face, even after Tony starts working his cock again. 

He takes the second finger well, but the third one is harder, even after plenty of stretching. And as hot as it is to watch the digits disappear into Peter and his tight hole struggle against the intrusion, it's getting more and more difficult to hold back.

Tony's cock is so hard it's almost painful, the burning under his skin is worse, and all he wants is slide into the hot, wet tightness of Peter's ass. He closes his eyes for a few seconds to steady himself, but he can feel the sheen of sweat on his skin and his heart racing in his chest, and he knows drawing it out will only make it worse.

The unhappy little sound Peter makes when Tony withdraws his fingers goes straight to Tony's cock. He pulls it out of his pants and slicks it up with spit and precum as good as he can, wishing they had proper lube, wishing they were anywhere else, wishing this wasn't just about saving Tony from an ungraceful death by sex pollen. 

"Pete, I got to—"

"It's okay, Mr. Stark," the kid says again. When this is over, Tony will never be able to hear those words again without flashing back to this moment: Peter naked and on his back in front of him, bent in half with his hands on his thighs, waiting to be fucked. "I can take it."

_Jesus._

"Yeah, kid, you can," Tony says. It's meant to be reassurance, but it doesn't come out quite right.

He lines himself up and pushes into Peter. He tries to go slow, he really does, but he _can't_. He doesn't know anymore where his own desire stops and the compulsion begins. Peter's impossibly tight around his cock and it feel so damn good and it's too much and not nearly enough. He doesn't stop until he's fully sheathed, the entire length of his cock buried inside Peter.

Peter's head is thrown back, his eyes closed, his mouth open. He looks like every fucking wet dream Tony's ever head about him. 

Tony pulls halfway out and slams home again, too fast, too harsh, unable to stop himself. Peter's hands clench, fingers digging into his thighs so firmly it would leave bruises on a regular person.

"Please," he whines, voice hoarse and raw. 

Tony isn't sure if he means _please fuck me_ or _please stop_, isn't sure if Peter himself knows which one it is. 

It doesn't matter. Tony's long past the point of being able to stop. He's clear-minded enough, but his body feels like it's barely under his own control anymore, the compulsion to give the pollen what they want impossible to resist. If Peter wanted to call a halt to it, he'd really have to knock him out now, and Tony knows he would never do that. 

"You're doing so well, Pete," he says, and he isn't sure if that's him or the pollen talking.

The sound Peter makes in response is a choked up groan. His cock is hard when Tony reaches for it, precum pooling at the tip, and he arches into the touch. Tony starts jerking him off in time with his thrusts, furiously pumping Peter's cock while pushing into him again and again and again until his rhythm begins to stutter and he feels light-headed and breathless, chasing release.

Peter comes before Tony does, spilling all over his fingers with Tony's name (_Mr. Stark, I can't—_) on his lips. 

His ass clenches around Tony's cock, maddeningly tight. Just a few more thrusts and the sight of the spent, fucked-out expression on the kid's face – that's all it takes to push Tony over the edge too. 

And in an instant, everything changes: Tony's been drunk and high and fucked up on all kinds of shit before. He's come down hard and crashd more times than he can count, but never like this. From one second to the next, the burning need coursing through his veins is gone. The urgency, the arousal, the heat – it's all wiped away at once, and all that's left is guilt and cold dread. 

He pulls back, probably too fast in his need to get some distance between Peter and himself, judging by the way Peter winces when Tony's cock drags out of him. Great. One more way he's hurt the kid today.

He feels sick to his stomach, and if they'd actually fed him he'd probably throw up from the way the guilt is punching into his guts with iron fists. "I'm sorry, Pete. I'm so fucking sorry." 

That stricken expression from earlier is back on Peter's face again, and the knowledge that he's been the one who put it there is killing Tony.

"Mr. Stark—Tony. It's not your fault. You have to know that. There was no other way."

Yeah, sure, he knows that. Except that's not the whole story, is it? Tony's always been good at denial, and he's very good at pretending he's more heroic than he really is. But lying to himself always leaves a stale aftertaste, and if there's one other person he doesn't want to lie to, it's Peter.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "The pollen? Yeah, that wasn't my fault. But the thing is, kid, I've wanted this."

He watches Peter's eyes go wide, and he has to turn away. 

"I mean, not this, exactly. Of course not! Who the hell wants to get poisoned with fucking sex pollen like they're in a terrible Trek episode? But my point is, I wanted you. I've thought about—I thought about fucking you. Which is bad enough, all things considered. But the worst part is, I don't know if maybe I wouldn't have been able to control myself better if my subconscious hadn't been a little too down with turning the fantasy real."

It belatedly occurs to him that he should probably have pulled up his pants for honesty hour, or at least have given Peter the chance to get clean and cover up himself.

He bends down to grab Peter's jeans off the floor and hands them over without meeting the kid's eyes. Peter takes them and folds them over his groin, but he doesn't get up.

"What if it was my fault?" he says, after a moment of silence that stretched too long.

"Come again?" 

Tony winces. Bad choice of words. 

It's clearly not lost on Peter who snorts, the corners of his mouth twitching. But the amusement only lasts for a second before he's serious again. "What if the idea of having sex with you was... not really an incentive for me to consider alternative options? What if I was a bit too eager to get through this shitty situation in the best way I could think of?" 

In Tony's defense, he's still not 100% on top of his game. Maybe that's why he only gets what Peter is telling him when the kid spells it out. "What if you weren't the only one who'd been thinking about this before?"

Oh.

_Oh._

Some of the guilt ebbs away, replaced by relief and a giddiness that's still fucking inappropriate considering their situation but hard to shake off all the same. Remembering Peter's words from earlier, Tony echoes, "An easy fix, huh?"

This time, Peter's smile is almost as bright as it should be. 

"I was right, wasn't I?" he says, cockiness in his tone, and Tony rolls his eyes at him. 

They're going to be okay, he thinks. 

He still wishes today hadn't happened, because no one should have to lose their virginity in a disgusting prison cell with a guy high on sex pollen, pre-exiting mutual attraction or not – least of all Peter, who deserves the world. But with all the awful, traumatizing, irreversibly damaging ways today could have gone, having Peter smile at him like this the best possible outcome.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to kiss you now and then we'll find a way out of here," Tony suggests. "So if you have any objections to either of that, now would be a good time to let me know." 

"Oh no, absolutely no objections from me," Peter says, leaning in to meet Tony halfway.

End


End file.
